


Interdimensional Virus

by AStarlitSunflower



Category: DCTV, Harry Wells - Fandom, The Flash (TV 2014), cisco ramon - Fandom
Genre: Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Sick Character, Sick Cisco, mentions of throwing up, sick/comfort, worrying Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 07:17:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13899057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AStarlitSunflower/pseuds/AStarlitSunflower
Summary: Cisco comes down with something nasty, but only he knows how to handle it. Which leaves Harry to try and busy himself while Cisco gets better.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I babbled with Aquaexplicit on tumblr about how Harry would react to Cisco coming down with the flu, and this is the result of it. 
> 
> This is my first Fic ever, and I haven't written anything in a handful of years, but I always welcome comments and criticism!

45 Minutes. 

It had been 45 minutes since Cisco moved positions on his bed, rolling from a spot that had his face shoved into Harry’s shoulder, to facing the wall and obnoxiously bright and loud clock. Harry knows how long it’s been because he was the one who made the effort to get the clock to stop screaming; and once it was shut up, he dropped his arm over Cisco and waited for him to sit up. 

He didn’t.

So Harry instead laid there and watched the clock. Their phones weren’t blaring with alerts and he was too stubborn to break tradition of Cisco fighting to wake him. He figures he could get up, maybe make coffee or breakfast. But Cisco likes his eggs a certain way and Harry can never get them quite right, so to spare himself the teasing he decided against it. He ran over other possibilities while he laid there; french toast? No bread. Pancakes were doable, but Cisco was a waffle man and his waffle maker broke months ago. 

Finally, 55 minutes after the alarm went off, Harry decides on just pouring cereal for the two of them while coffee brewed. Admitting defeat for the morning tradition, he sits up first and looks down at Cisco who still hasn’t moved. They didn’t go to bed particularly late, or stay up too long once they were in bed; Cisco had mentioned his body was feeling a little “out of whack” and aching, so he just wanted to sleep. The concern didn’t set in for Harry until he tried to wake Cisco; feeling too much heat come off his skin as he touched his arm to shake him awake. His hand slid to brush loose hair off Cisco’s cheek, noticing the dampness of sweat, and the harshness of a fever. 

“Francisco…” 

A special name. S.T.A.R Labs got Ramon, Barry’s apartment got Cisco, Hero Duty got Vibe. But when they were here, at home, private and peaceful he was Francisco. It didn’t start off well, the first time Harry called him that, almost instantly did Cisco correct him. It took a few days after that until Harry got the full story; Cisco’s parents always called him Francisco but it always came with a condescending tone, a tone that made Cisco not feel good enough, worthy of his name. So he shortened it, made it simple, made it fun. The story only spurred Harry on to call him it more, change the response, make it something beautiful; the way Cisco should feel. Harry stayed Harry, occasionally Harrison, sometimes Mr. Wells if they were having fun after everyone had left the labs for the night. Never Dr. Wells. Cisco already had a Dr. Wells in his life, one that ripped him apart and killed him. Harry didn’t mind not being called Dr. Wells. 

“Francisco.” He repeated, noticing the way his face scrunched when he swallowed, and how he was breathing from his mouth instead of his nose. The only response he got was a scratched grunt. “Francisco...You’re burning up. You’re sick.” A wonderful assessment.

“Thanks, genius.” Harry would smile at the response, if Cisco didn’t look like he just swallowed razor blades to say it. Instead, Harry sat up more, throwing the blankets off his legs and moved to stand and start getting dressed. Cisco was sick, out of commission, on strict bed rest orders; which seemed so obvious. Except, at the movement Cisco moved to sit up too, reached for his phone to check, pull his glasses on and get the excess blankets off himself. 

“What are you doing?” Harry buttoned his jeans, pulling a tank top on, not looking from the back of Cisco’s head.

“Villains don’t stop just because a hero has the flu.” Cisco croaked back at him, focusing on his phone, his other hand on the edge of the bed as he sat there, seemingly keeping him from going too far forward. “I’ll just take medicine, then we can go to the labs.” He nodded, which earned a humorless scoff from Harry.

“You’re not going to the labs. You’re not going out the front door. Stay in bed, lay your head back down, I’m going to the store, I’ll be back with food, medicine, tea and anything else you need. What do you need?” Harry had pulled on his over shirt, coat, and hat by the time he was done talking. He moved and grabbed his wallet and glasses on the side table, going over to kiss Cisco’s forehead and take his phone from him. 

Cisco jerked back, holding his phone to his chest; the movement made his body feel like slush. “Harry. I can go to the labs, I can be Vibe. I can run the monitors for Barry. And, most importantly, I can take care of myself.” A familiar reminder to Harry, Cisco is independent, painfully stubborn about it as well. Harry crossed his arms, not changing his mind any time soon and kept his eyes on Cisco’s paling sick face. He just took a step back and glanced to the ground; challenging Cisco to stand up and get clothes on. Cisco recognized it for what it was and accepted, he put both hands on his thighs and pushed himself to stand. 

A Mistake. 

One Harry become five, and the room spun left to right and upside down. He couldn’t focus on anything as a grounding point and felt the previous nights dinner boil in his stomach. It was a short angry blur of vile and then he found himself hugging his toilet, his throat worse and the taste in his mouth only causing more contents to spill out. The bright side was that his hair stayed loosely tied in the bun he put it in the night before. The downside was that he could feel the tie start slipping, and hair start framing his face. 

Until the familiar slender digits raked over his cheeks and moved his hair out of the way; Harry’s cool voice being the one thing Cisco can focus on. It calmed him down to just a coughing fit, which eventually settled and allowed him to spit without any major repercussions. Harry kept talking, most likely saying I told you so, to Cisco as Cisco rinsed and spit and Harry wiped his face of any excess bile; not once flinching or making a sound of disgust. Pros of having a daughter, Cisco assumed.  
Harry brought him back to the bed, laid him down, put a clean damp cloth on his forehead and told him to stay put. 

Cisco absolutely hated this. His hair wasn’t tied back, so it stuck to his neck and he didn’t have the strength to lift his arms to move it off anyway. Any movement of his head had him seeing his bedroom three times over at varying speeds, his eyes hurt, his body was on fire while he shivered, he might as well have chugged lava with how his throat feels, and his nose has abandoned all hope on helping him breathe. 

On top of that, Harry was going to take care of him. It’s not that Cisco didn’t appreciate, or even find it endearing how Harry instantly jumped into caretaker mode to get Cisco to feel better. It’s that Cisco had to be taken care of. Ever since he was about 10 years old, he took care of himself. Another side effect of how he grew up playing second fiddle. He learned to do a lot on his own, and that meant taking care of himself when he was sick. Sure, his mother fussed, when she could; and gave him home made soup, which was usually warmed up in the microwave and left over because he always seemed to get sick after Dante. But he never wanted or asked for the fussing, and it only happened when she had time. Dante would do his best, mostly out of guilt for getting Cisco sick, he guessed. But solitude was the only thing he ever wanted. This way he could handle it and it wouldn’t spread to anyone else. He groans softly, closing his eyes again, he’s not looking forward to telling Harry to leave him alone, when all Harry’s doing is trying to help. His mind fogs and he figures he’ll leave that task future Cisco and lets the exhaustion from running and barfing put him to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Cisco wakes up to the sound of silver hitting glass and Harry talking to himself in the kitchen. He’d get up, but he learned his lesson; instead he just tries to clear his throat and call out. Harry comes in, sleeves pushed up, coat and hat abandoned somewhere else in the apartment. “What is it? What do you need? Medicine? Maybe some tea? I can get another pot to boil water.I got energy drinks, and pedialyte, for the electrolytes, that’ll help keep you from dehydra-” He’s cut off by Cisco putting a hand in the air. 

“Another pot?” Is the first question he asks, everything else Harry rambled dizzying him.

“Yes. Another pot.” Harry says it like it’s an everyday thing. Cisco just stares, saves himself the pain of talking and Harry finally catches it and explains. “I went to the store, and bought all of your favorite soups. You have a limited selection, but I got multiple cans of each flavor. I currently have one of each cooking on the stove.” Harry’s hands go to his hips.

“I don’t….” Cisco tries to comprehend the logic behind that, and figure out how to word his response. Before he can, Harry starts talking again.

“I also got medicine, different kinds of tea, a new waffle maker for when you’re feeling better, the drinks like I mentioned, medicine that is tea, new hair ties because yours are too loose and wont hold your hair, specific ice packs that help with fevers, and told Barry and Caitlin your condition. Snow wanted to come over to do a checkup, but you were asleep.” Harry has that sound in his voice when he’s just named a device or meta, or figured an equation and he’s waiting for Cisco’s approval; no one ever notices it, but Cisco’s well versed in Harry’s subtleties. 

Cisco plants his palms on the bed and before he can psych himself to push himself to sit straight, Harry is already there; gently moving him and his pillows so his back is to the headboard. Cisco can feel Harry’s anxiety radiating off of him, whether its from Cisco being sick, or his lack of response he’s not sure; but it’s definitely there. That just makes it worse.

Once situated, Cisco gently reaches for Harry’s hand and holds it; a simple grounding technique for both of them, it gets Harry to stop swaying side to side on his feet. He sighs softly, gently squeezing his hand as he looks up at him. 

“Harry...I love you. Thank you for shopping, and getting those things and...cooking.” He turns his head as a cough wracks through his chest and throat, and notices Harry’s hand hold tighter. “But please, I just need a few days. On my own. In this room.” He watches Harry’s shoulders stiffen, his chest puff, and a frown set in. “I don’t want to argue, but I have a routine when I’m sick. I know how to care for myself, and I don’t-”

“-Like other people imposing upon it.” Harry finishes for him, nodding. It’s like with the name. 

Cisco nods back, “I’m not saying go back to the labs, and I’m not saying leave to your earth. I’m just saying, let me do this the way I know how.” He gently taps the back of Harry’s hand with his thumb, his own nervous habit. 

Harry sighs and struggles to keep his counter-argument to himself. 

He fails.

“Terms of agreement.” Because Harry simply can’t leave Cisco to himself in the state he’s in. “Let me put your hair back, I did it with Jesse when she was sick, it helped her headaches and kept it out of the way when she threw up. I’m going to stay on the couch, that way I’m right here when you call. I’m taking your phone, so you’re not tempted to help Allen. I’m building a system, so if you need anything, you can call out and I can get it.” Harry nods once, as if the arguments settled; but still stays for Cisco’s thoughts.

Cisco agrees, simply because each term had a logical reasoning. Though he doesn’t feel like saying anything, he simply leans forward and gives Harry access to his hair.


	3. Chapter 3

The braid stayed in his hair for three days straight. It did exactly what Harry promised too, kept his hair out of the way, and applied a calming amount of pressure to combat the consistent ache. Harry stuck to his word about the couch too, only going into the bedroom to get to the bathroom. Cisco was phoneless the entire time, and he found himself not caring more than he thought he would; though when you’re jumping from dry heaving to coughing, phones are your last thought. And, Harry built a system. An intercom that had a working screen on both sides, so if Cisco could talk, he could tap. They created their own morse code, and picked it up naturally. Cisco would simply tap for what he wanted, and a few minutes later, Harry would be at the door with it in his hands.

The distance, no matter how small, was driving Harry a little stir crazy. He cleaned the entire apartment. Twice. Organized Cisco’s collectors items first by size, then by name, then by name of show and character. He organized Cisco’s ever growing collection of hot sauces too, first by spice, then by earth. He cleaned his dvd collection, his TV series box collections, under the couch, the couch cushions, the drapes, windows. Anything he could get his hands on. He took apart the broken waffle maker and rebuilt it a few times one night Cisco couldn’t keep anything down and spent the entire night throwing up both his food, and his medicine. Despite the constant rebuilding, the dumb thing still didn’t work. But, thats why Harry bought a new one.

He tried to sleep, but the combination of worrying about Cisco, and his ankles hanging off the opposite arm of the couch kept him from doing so. He tried a few of the video games Cisco had. Each were stupid and not worth his time. That was mostly due to Harry’s short patience and quick temper. 

There was a changing stack on the coffee table that Harry stared at most hours of the night and day. It started with a few movies he thought Cisco would want to watch when he starts feeling better. Then, they weren’t good enough for that time, so he changed them. And changed them again. He finally settled on Firefly, Serenity, the original Star Wars trilogy, Alien, Jaws, The third season of House M.D. and the one that never left the stack: The Princess Bride. 

It was four in the afternoon; Harry had once again cleaned the apartment and decided organizing all of Cisco’s novelty mugs was a good idea when he heard the water in the bathroom running. He wanted so bad to go in and see if Cisco needed help, or company, or anything but he stopped himself and instead focused on the mug in the shape of some cartoon green fist, that is three sizes too big. 

Cisco sighed as he sunk himself in he steaming water of his bathtub, his muscles thanked him by not screaming at him for the first time in a handful of days. He finally started to feel human again, at least, as human as he could be. His nose was still stuffed up, his chest rattled when he breathed, and he still had a cough that he’s sure Caitlin would compare to bronchitis. But, dinner from the previous night, breakfast, lunch, three doses of medicine, and half a cup of tea stayed down and didn’t make a violent comeback to the world via his mouth. Not to mention he could swallow without wincing, and his body didn’t feel like it weighed a thousand pounds more than usual.  
He sunk slowly under the water, letting it wet his hair that stayed in the braid, and let the warmth cover every inch of him once again, his muscles thanked him. He stayed as long as his lungs would let him, before pulling himself back up, the cold air shocking his skin in a pleasant way. It was nice feeling something other than a layer a gunk and sickness coat his skin. He grabbed his bodywash and loofah and went to town, scrubbing what he could and immediately dipping back in the water to wash the suds off. 

Once done, Cisco drained his tub and grabbed a towel; carefully, because he still didn’t fully trust his legs, he shuffled back into his bedroom and got dressed. He pulled on a simple pair of gray sweats and one of Harry’s long sleeved black sweaters that went down past his hands. He undid the braid in his hair and let it drip dry for a little, figuring it’s just Harry who’s going to see him like this, so there’s no need to do the whole routine. After all, Harry had seen worse in just the past couple days. 

He sat to catch his breath and let a coughing fit run its course before he stood up again. His stomach growling for dinner was a good sign, so he grabbed one of his favorite blankets and wrapped himself in it before shuffling out of the bedroom. The door opening revealed Harry sitting on the couch, feet planted, legs spread, arms crossed over his stomach, and his head dropped back so he could stare at the ceiling.

“Have you been like that for three days?” Cisco smiled softly, Harry lifting his head to look at him; nearly startled at the sound. Instantly he was on his feet, fighting the urge to take the huge steps to be right there in front of him. “No, I don’t need anything, I’m feeling good, great even.” Harry must have believed him, because his shoulders dropped just slightly in relief. “I just wanted to sit with you, I missed you.” He shuffled again, the blanket dragging behind his ankles, moving and plopping down on the couch. 

Harry went to inhale to suggest he should make Cisco some tea but Cisco sat forward, inspecting the stack of DVDs and that shut him up, nervous for the days picks. The grin that spread over Cisco’s face calmed his nerves once more, and he finally spoke. “What if I made both of us tea, and we can watch those?” He tried to hide his eagerness, Cisco caught it anyway. 

“That sounds like exactly what I need.” Cisco nodded and went to put the first movie in the player while Harry went to start the water to boil. “Did you clean?” Cisco called out, Harry’s response being delayed by another harsh cough making itself heard. “And organized my collectibles?! Harry! These things are sacred! They cost a lot of money!” Just short of his normal pitch and tone, but nevertheless it made Harry hide a smirk.   
“You were sick, Francisco. I was bored, and this place was a mess.” He nodded getting two mugs down, satisfied with the work he did in that cabinet too. 

“Man,” Cisco coughed once more, sitting back down. “If this is what it takes to get you to clean, I should kick you out more often.” 

“I’d prefer you didn’t, unless the circumstances are severe. Like they were in this case.” Harry nodded, putting the tea bags in the mugs before pouring the water. He added the sugar and honey to Cisco’s before doing the same to his, clearly more focused on making Cisco’s just perfect. 

When he sat next to him on the couch, Cisco easily fit himself at his side, under his arm, putting the blanket over Harry as much as he could before taking his mug of tea. “Thanks for….Understanding.” All Harry did was nod, he learned to pick the right times to pry about Cisco’s family that he’ll never meet, and he didn’t feel like right now was a good time. Harry propped one foot up on the coffee table and hit play before settling back in completely, his arm staying stretched around Cisco, keeping his head against his chest and collarbone. 

Eventually, Cisco felt a weight on the top of his head, and noticed how Harry’s hand wasn’t holding his mostly empty mug as securely as it had been. Carefully, Cisco slides a hand to the center of Harry’s chest, feeling the way he’s breathing, noticing the pattern as stone cold asleep. 

Maybe it wasn’t just the worry, or length of the couch; maybe Harry couldn’t sleep because he wasn’t holding his Francisco.


End file.
